


super secret spring cleaning

by screamin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, If you've ever wondered why they never did up the inside of the Bus, agents of shield:the extended family, aosexchange 2014, as light hearted as I can get it, but before the team find out Ward's escaped, everything's platonic unless you like reading into Hunter and Bobbi's fights, if you squint you might see Fitz/Mac or Fitz/Trip, maybe Trip kinda likes Simmons a bit, no mention of christmas, takes place after 'a fractured house', the whole team show up, this is the fic for you, trying to sneak in references to future episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamin/pseuds/screamin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team S.H.I.E.L.D. 2.0 ends up doing up the inside of the Bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	super secret spring cleaning

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up a whole lot longer than it was supposed to be, and then I got hit with a massive case of ‘where the hell do I go from here’ in the middle, and then I ended up having to do a massive rewrite, like on the 22nd, goddammit. 
> 
> This is set after A Fractured House, in a blissful day before the team find out that Ward’s escaped from Senator Ward’s people, although it’s probably mostly crack, I don’t know anymore. Tried to slip in little bits of continuity, hopefully it comes across okay, hope everyone’s in character. Science in here is mostly cut from whole cloth, I’m neither a biochemist or an engineer. One animated TV show reference I hope *someone* gets. 
> 
> Everything’s pretty platonic, I don’t write romantic, but you know what they say, you might see things if you squint.
> 
> Warning, one late offhand mention of Ward – characters have exactly the same attitude towards him as they do on the show. You have been warned.
> 
> Merry Christmas!
> 
> P.S. Nearly forgot, there’s one Mentalist reference in here too.

Jemma walks slowly up the Bus’ cargo ramp, and into the garage that used to be the lab she shared with Fitz. Gone are the workbenches, the holotable, the microscope, the centrifuge - instead, a massive, sleek Harley dominates the space, obviously in the process of receiving a few upgrades courtesy of Mac. A few toolboxes of various sizes lie open around the motorbike, and Jemma nearly trips over a wayward wrench.

Sometimes, she feels like marching up to Mac, grabbing him by the shirt and demanding her lab back, but she knows that can’t happen – it was probably Coulson who ordered the change, anyway. And, in truth, it’s not so much the lab she wants, but instead what it  _means_ to her.

She walks out of the garage and climbs the stairs to the main area of the Bus, and flops down in one of the seats. Her fingers find a fraying hole in the armrest, and she looks around at the shattered windows in the debrief room and the marks left in the Bus’ walls by bullet spray. Before she left, she had helped get the Bus airworthy again, and now that it had cloaking capabilities it was once again a valuable asset to the new S.H.I.E.L.D., but the only cosmetic work they had done on the big plane was to paint over the huge eagle on her back, and sweep up as much crushed glass as they could.

Jemma hauls herself out of the chair and goes over to examine the bullet-holes in the walls. Spare internal panels for specialist S.H.I.E.L.D. Mobile Command Units like this one weren’t cheap or easy to come by, even back when S.H.I.E.L.D. was top dog. But most of the holes weren’t deep, just ugly.  _Maybe some kind of ultra-light foam filler that can be painted over?_

'Thought you'd be in the lab.'

Jemma looks over to see Trip beaming at her. She can’t help but return his smile.

'Hi, Trip, what are you up to?'

He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at a pile of boxes cluttering up the passageway and stairs to Coulson’s old office. ‘I figured someone’s gonna take a dive over those boxes one of these days, so I offered to help move ‘em into storage in the Playground, clear some room in here.’ He looks around wistfully at the battered space. ‘Wish I could do more for the Bus, she’s saved our asses enough times.’

Jemma looks thoughtfully over at the damaged wall. ‘Actually, I was just thinking that I might have something to fill these unsightly bullet-holes…’

She can hear the smile in Trip’s voice. ‘Thought you might have. Tell you what, why don’t you go and get whatever you need to fill those holes, and I’ll quickly finish moving these boxes into storage and help you fill them in?’

'Okay!' A thought occurs to Jemma and she lowers her voice conspiratorially. 'Why don't we make it a surprise for the rest of the team? See if they notice anything different?'

Trip laughs and claps her on the shoulder. ‘Why not?’

~

Jemma races out of the Bus and down into the Playground’s living quarters.  _Finally, a proper project!_ She hasn’t felt so fired-up for a while and it’s exhilarating. She flings open the door to her room and drags out a box from under her bed. It’s filled with old dusty workbooks from her days at the Academy, and she rifles through them until she finds the one she’s looking for.

She dashes out of her room with it and makes off at top speed toward the labs.

~

Trip stumps down the Bus’ cargo ramp, carrying a few boxes. A forklift is parked nearby; a half-filled pallet of boxes sits on its tray. He puts the boxes carefully on the pallet before retrieving a rag from his back pocket, wiping his sweaty face as he walks back up the ramp.

'Can't just be paper in those,' he puffs to himself.

He’s just about to head back out with a few more boxes when he hears someone on the ramp. _Damn, she’s quick._

He’s picking his way through the garage, arms full, when he sees that it’s Bobbi, not Simmons. He notices that he’s startled her, but she’s hidden it well. ‘Agent Morse! Can I help?’ he calls.

Bobbi walks up to him. ‘Hey, Trip. I see you’re pretty busy.’ She grabs a box off his pile and walks down the ramp with him.

Trip unloads his boxes and Bobbi follows suit. ‘Yeah, I said I’d move these boxes into storage for Coulson. Anything I can help you with?’

Bobbi flashes him a quick smile. ‘Well, Mac was showing me around the Bus yesterday, and not long after that, I realized I’d lost the flash drive I’d been holding at the time. I’ve probably dropped it in here - have you seen it?’

Trip racks his brain as he walks back into the Bus, trailed by Bobbi. ‘No, can’t say that I have,’ he says finally. ‘I figure you’ve already checked with Mac?’

'Sure.'

'Well, I'll keep an eye out for it, Agent Morse, but I can't do much more until I've finished moving these.' Trip picks up a few more boxes.

Bobbi does the same. ‘Well, the faster these boxes are moved, the faster we can find that flash drive.’ She breaks into a grin. ‘And, please, call me Bobbi.’

As Bobbi walks out ahead of him, Trip tries to work out what’s bugging him about her and her flash drive, when he belatedly remembers that Simmons will be back soon with the filler for the Bus’ walls.  _We need to find that drive, and fast…_

He grabs an extra box and hurries off after Bobbi.

~

Jemma has set up her distilling apparatus inside the lab’s fume cupboard. It’s been bubbling away for a good while now, and the finished product is beginning to collect in a small vacuum-sealed, pressurised flask. Once she’s got a few millilitres to test, she deftly swaps the small flask for a larger one, and moves the test flask to a cleared area in the fume cupboard, where a few squares of heavy-duty plastic and metal are set up - the same types used in the Bus’ walls.

She waits a few minutes for the flask to cool, one gloved hand on her hip. She can feel Fitz’s curious gaze on her from the other side of the lab, and it’s making her apprehensive.

When she’s happy that the flask has cooled down enough, she puts on a face mask, snaps a modified metal aerosolizer onto the top of the flask, and listens to the buzz and pop as the flask’s seal is punctured.

She sprays each of the test squares with the liquid in the flask, and instantly they are each covered with a uniformly-expanding fizzy layer of cream-coloured foam. A few seconds later, the foam stops fizzing, contracts slightly, and hardens, leaving a perfectly flat, light, cream-coloured layer on each test square.

The formula doesn’t affect the Bus’ other materials, and painting over the layers works well. Jemma runs a few more tests, noting down the results in the margin of her old workbook, before deeming her formula safe to use in the Bus’ walls. She detaches the larger flask from the distilling apparatus, snaps another aerosolizer onto it, and begins clearing the fume cupboard.

'Hey, um, should I have been wearing a mask for all that?’ Jemma jumps a little. Fitz is a few steps behind her, his curiosity having gotten the better of him, and has apparently been watching the whole time. Mac is a little further off, leaning casually on the workbench behind him, keeping an eye on the proceedings.

She buries her nervousness and shakes her head. ‘You were too far off, and the fume cupboard’s sucked up most of it, no need to worry. It’s non-toxic, anyway - I’m just being careful.‘

‘Right.’ There’s silence for a moment.

_He’ll ask in three, two, one-_

‘So, uh, isn’t that the, er, cobweb stuff you made?’

Jemma smiles a bit. ‘Sort of! I’ve modified it slightly.’

He frowns suddenly. ‘It’s not Halloween yet, is it?’

‘No, no, I’m just, um, seeing if it still works!’ she says, a little too brightly.

Fitz’s frown doesn’t go away, but then he notices the metal device attached to the top of the flask. ‘Wait, that’s my – um –‘

‘Yes, your aerosolizer!’ Jemma smiles as she realises he’s itching to take it apart.

‘Did that a while ago, must’ve been… back at Sci-Tech?’ Fitz looks wistful, maybe even a little sad.

Jemma nods, then giggles suddenly. ‘You gave the modified aerosolizer and attached flask one of  _your_  names, remember? Oh, I can’t recall now, something very cowboy-ish-‘

Fitz nearly smiles. ‘Um… Quickdraw? Doesn’t make sense. Er, Spidershooter?’ he tries.

Mac shoots Jemma a warning look, and she hastily decides to stop reminiscing before Fitz descends into frustration. ‘Er, Fitz? Could I run something past you?’

Fitz gives her a look, but nods. Jemma knows he’s wondering why she’d be asking  _him_ , and nearly loses her nerve. She takes a moment to examine the contents of the larger flask before speaking.

‘So I’ve modified the original formula to use as an ultralight, strong filler that can be painted over.’

Fitz nods again, although he’s a little puzzled as to  _why_ she would do such a thing.

She takes a breath.  _You can do it, Jemma._  ‘Um, I was wondering, just hypothetically of course, d’you think if I used it in the walls of a, oh, I don’t know, fair-sized airborne vehicle, it would affect its flight at all? The chances are minuscule, right, Fitz?’

Jemma is too busy celebrating internally at having gotten her question past him without giving the game away to register Mac and Fitz glancing quizzically at each other.

Fitz decides to humour her. ‘How much will you be, um…-‘

'Using? Oh, maybe thirty ml or so, not too much - hypothetically, that is.' Jemma clasps her hands to stop herself from fidgeting.

Mac raises an eyebrow.

'That should be okay.’ Fitz looks up at the ceiling, thinking back. ’I’m pretty sure my old tests suggested no effect on, er…'

'Aerodynamics? Flight? Weight?' Mac supplies helpfully.

'Um, the second-last one.'

'Flight.'

'Right. My tests showed that the cobweb, um, formula didn't affect test flights until the two-litre mark. And that as the size of the plane, um, increased, the amount of formula it could carry increased, er-'

Mac and Jemma look like they’re about to interject, but Fitz holds up his hand.

'-exponentially,' he finishes proudly.

Jemma beams at him and Mac reaches over the bench and claps him on the shoulder. ‘Good job, Turbo.’

Fitz rubs his arm. ‘Don’t call me that.’ he mutters, but he’s got a smile on his face.

'Thanks, Fitz!' Jemma says, grabbing the large flask and aerosolizer, and making for the lab doors.

It takes a few seconds for Fitz to register the battered workbook sitting on the far edge of the workbench. ‘Hey - you left your book!’

But Jemma has already rounded the corner.

Fitz is about to get up and put the book on Jemma’s shelf in the lab, when Mac grabs his shoulder again. ‘Why don’t we go and give it to her in person? She was heading towards the hangar. She may be a genius, but she’s gotta be the worst liar I’ve heard in my life. Bet you anything she’s using that spider stuff on the Bus or the Quinjet.’

Fitz tries not to wonder how Jemma spent months in HYDRA. He’s done that many times before, and it just makes him angry, worried, and frustrated. Instead, he heads out of the lab with the book.

'Loser makes sandwiches!' he yells over his shoulder.

~

'This is the second time we've searched here,' Trip says as they pick their way across the Bus' living quarters, scanning the carpet.

Bobbi’s somehow found a pen and is twirling it nervously between her fingers. ‘I could have sworn I left it here…’

'Sure you didn’t leave it somewhere else?'

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

Just then, they hear Simmons dashing up the cargo ramp, yelling Trip’s name.

Her voice floats clearly up the staircase. ‘Have you finished the boxes? Oh, this is going to be the best surprise! I’ve got the filler for the bullet-holes, but I could only make one flask, so only one of us can do it at a ti-’ She stops dead in front of Bobbi and Trip. ‘Oh, sheepdip.’

Trip winces.

Bobbi smiles down at her. ‘Hi, Jemma.’

Jemma gives her a sheepish look. ‘Is it too much to hope that you didn’t hear any of that?’

'Hear what?' Bobbi says innocently.

Trip laughs at the dubiously hopeful look Jemma shoots him. ‘Drop the act,’ he tells Bobbi, and the senior agent promptly dissolves into giggles. ‘Jemma, I think there were a few people in  _Hawaii_  who missed that.’

'Oops,' she says guiltily. 'I wanted to surprise you.'

Bobbi’s laughter fades away, and she looks at the other two earnestly. ‘Don’t worry, I can help you surprise everyone else! What do you have planned?’

'Well, we wanted to clean up the inside of the Bus a bit, and decided to fill in the bullet-holes that the Bus sustained in the HYDRA uprising.' She indicates the flask in her hands. 'This is a special something I came up with to fix them with, but then they need painting over.'

'Okay, I can go get that,' Bobbi says. 'I'm sure that flash drive will turn up soon.'

Trip glances at her. ‘Are you sure?’

'Yeah, of course. Be right back.' She disappears down the stairs.

'What flash drive?' Jemma calls after her.

'She said she'd left it somewhere in the Bus - I was helping her look for it after I'd finished with the boxes – keep an eye out for it.' Trip looks across at the bullet marks studding the Bus's walls. 'I was thinking, since you've only got one bottle to fill the holes with, it'd be easiest if  _you_  fill them in. I’ve taken a look in the hold, and damn, is it dusty down there. I’ll find myself a broom or something and take care of that.’ Trip gives her a look, and Jemma realises that he knows she doesn’t like being in the hold.

'Okay, Trip,' she says, hoping that he knows she's grateful.

~

Bobbi quickly locates Koenig, who tells her that she might find some paint left over in the basement from when he oversaw the Playground’s renovation. She makes her way down there, and soon finds a walk-in cupboard stuffed with paint cans, buckets of plaster, old plastic sheets, a few ladders of various sizes, wood cut offs, even a beat-up backpack vacuum cleaner.

She rummages about and finds a few small touch-up cans of paint that look like they’ll match the Bus’ walls, as well as a few groundsheets. At the last second, she decides to take the back-vac with her as well - the Bus’ carpet could use a good clean.

Suddenly, a shadow appears in the doorway. Bobbi turns around and sees May standing there.

May looks her up and down, noting the groundsheets and cans of paint in her arms and the vacuum cleaner slung over her shoulder. She raises an eyebrow.

 _Oh, crap. This is what I get for laughing at Jemma._ Bobbi looks down at the strange collection of things she’s carrying, and chuckles a bit. ‘Weird, huh? I’m helping Koenig out. Little guy told me to pick up some things for him. I’d show you the rest of the list he gave me, but my hands are kinda full…’

She’s rewarded with a half-smile, and Bobbi instantly knows she’s been made.

May steps closer. ‘I’d be inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt, if I hadn’t just heard Koenig mentioning to Coulson how  _weird_  it was that you’d asked him for white paint.’

Not much Bobbi can say to that. ‘Uh, what if I promise to show you what I’ve been up to later?’ She tries a winning grin, and May is strongly reminded of Hunter.

'No. Spill.'

Bobbi sighs. ‘Oh, God, they’re gonna kill me. I’m helping clean up the Bus.  _Please_ don’t tell anyone else, it was supposed to be a surprise for the rest of the team.’

It’s May’s turn to sigh. ”They’?’

'Jemma and Trip.'

'Why the paint?'

'Jemma's made something to patch up the bullet-holes in the Bus' walls, but it needs to be painted over.'

'Smart,' May muses.

'Yeah. You want in, then?' Bobbi asks.

May nods at something in the far corner of the cupboard, and Bobbi notices some spare panes of glass leaning against the brick.

'Oh, the meeting room! Wait, you can lay glass?'

'Something I picked up undercover a long time ago.'

Bobbi raises her eyebrows, impressed.

'Take what you've got back to the Bus. I'll be down there soon with the glass.'

'Will do. Nice to have you aboard, Agent May.'

May waits until Bobbi’s footsteps fade before picking up a bucket of plaster and a groundsheet and walking up to Coulson’s office.

~

At first glance, the hanger seems pretty deserted, and the Quinjet is still and silent. Fitz isn’t very optimistic that he’s going to win Mac’s bet, but that doesn’t stop him from shooting the big man a vaguely triumphant look.

Mac chuckles and shakes his head. ‘You don’t win yet! Still got the Bus to check!’

So Fitz ambles up the Bus’ cargo ramp, Jemma’s book under his arm.

They walk through the garage and into the plane’s hold, where the air is strangely thick with dust. Fitz begins chain-sneezing.

Mac claps a hand over his own mouth and nose. ‘What the hell? The dust wasn’t this bad last time we were in here…’

Suddenly, a masked figure wielding a broom approaches them from the other side of the hold. ‘You guys okay?’ comes Trip’s muffled voice.

'What's goi-' Mac sneezes before continuing, '-on?'

Trip chivvies the two of them back out into the garage, the hold door hisses shut behind them, and suddenly the air is a lot clearer.

Fitz makes to sneeze again, but there’s nothing there anymore, and instead he lets out a sigh of relief. ‘What happened?’ he asks.

Trip rips off his mask. ‘I was dusting the hold, when I figured there must be so much dust because the collection system had broken down somewhere. So I tried to fix it by myself and save some time.’

Mac snorts humourlessly, recalling the thick, dirty air he’d just stepped out of. ‘Almost seems like it went into reverse somehow.’

Trip nods miserably. ‘At least it’s only the hold.’

Fitz begins tapping Mac’s shoulder urgently. ‘Um…’

Mac looks down at him. ‘Can you fix it up?’

'Um. Yeah, I think so. Need some things though…' Fitz looks around the garage and starts going through boxes and drawers, grabbing tools he might need.

'Anything I can do?' Trip asks.

'Yes. I need a, a white thingy - um, I mean, one of those white thingies for the - filter cover! New filter cover! In the hold - one of the middle pods, I think.'

Trip snaps his mask back on. ‘Copy that.’

Fitz suddenly points at the mask Trip’s wearing. ‘Oh! I need one of those too!’

Trip sighs loudly and pulls his mask off again. ‘May as well tell you. I don’t have any others on me, but if you go upstairs, you’ll find Jemma fixing the bullet-holes in the living quarters - she’s got a whole bunch of masks. Let her down easy, it was supposed to be a surprise.’

Mac is suddenly grinning from ear to ear. ‘Hey, Trip, what’s she using to fix those holes?’

Trip looks at them suspiciously. ‘Some kind of spray thing. Why?’

There’s a thump as Fitz kicks the edge of a toolbox. Mac cheerfully claps him on the back. ‘Don’t sweat it, man. Hey, Trip, how do you like sandwiches for lunch?’

Trip perks right up. ‘Yeah! I could eat a whole plate of ‘em!’

Another thump, this time the sound of Fitz’s head hitting the garage wall.

~

Jemma checks her flask of foam formula. It’s still half full, and most of the ugly pockmarks in the Bus’ walls have been smoothed over.

She’s commandeered one of the chairs from Coulson’s old office, using it to reach the higher bullet-holes, but there’s still a few Jemma doesn’t have a hope of reaching, even with the chair.

She steps down from the chair and pulls her mask off. ‘Trip?’ she yells.

'He can't hear you, he's down in the hold.' Jemma whirls around to see Mac and Fitz walking towards her.

'Um, hello!' she laughs nervously, trying to hide her flask behind her back. 'What are the two of you doing here? Um, not that I don't want to see you, or anything-'

Fitz demonstrates that he’s picked up Jemma’s eye-roll superpower, and holds out her old workbook.

'Oh. Thanks.' There's a few seconds of awkward silence, before she sighs and brings the flask back into view. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I wanted it to be a surprise.'

Fitz softens slightly. ‘That’s okay, Jemma.’

Jemma smiles at him for a moment, before recalling Mac’s words.  _Wait, why would Trip suddenly not be able to hear me?_

'What's wrong with Trip?' she asks.

Mac looks over from examining some of the repaired bullet-holes. ‘The dust collection system’s broken, and now it’s pushing dust into the hold, so Trip’s sealed it off. He’s gone in there to get some things so  _Turbo_  here can fix it up.’

Fitz gets back on track, but not before he aims a half-hearted swipe at Mac, who dodges easily. ‘Um, Trip said you’d have masks?’

'Of course,' she says, pointing to a small pile of them on a nearby chair.

He grabs a few and heads down the staircase into the garage.

Jemma is about to climb back onto her chair when she realises Mac is still standing there.

'Looks like you need a tall guy,' he comments. 'I can do the high-up ones, if you'd like.'

'Are you sure? The formula doubles in size in the first few seconds. I can teach you how to use it, if you like?'

Mac grabs the flask. ‘Looks pretty easy.’ He reaches up to a bullet-hole and lightly spritzes the inside with the aerosolizer. A bit of fizzing, and soon the mark is gone, replaced by a flat foam spot.

Jemma shrugs, and points out another high bullet-hole for him to fill in.

~

Not long after that, Bobbi arrives at the Bus, weighed down with paint tins and a back-vac. She’s surprised (but sort of relieved) to see Mac helping Jemma with the last of the bullet-holes, and Fitz emerging victorious from the hold with his arm around Trip’s shoulders, having won their dusty battle with the collection system.

She decides to take charge. ‘Okay, good news/bad news time,’ she tells the other four.

'Good news!' comes the chorus.

'I got paint - looks like it matches the walls pretty well too. Also, I thought we could give the main area of the Bus a good vacuum, it still kind of crunches a bit. Oh, and by the way, we've got new glass to replace the meeting room windows.'

A small cheer goes up.

'What's the bad news?' Jemma asks.

'Well, it's not that bad anymore, now that it's not really much of a surprise,' Bobbi replies apologetically, 'May's the one who offered to size and fit the glass for us. And Koenig's told Coulson about my strange request for white paint.'

Trip speaks up. ‘No use worrying over keeping people in the dark anymore. We should just team up and get the Bus fixed.’

'Bobbi and me can touch up the Bus' walls,' says Mac. 'We're tall enough to reach all of the spots-'

Bobbi glares at him. ‘No,  _I’ll_ do the painting, and  _you_ and Fitz can clean that messy excuse for a garage before someone trips over your stuff, otherwise I’ll tell Coulson it’s better off as a lab. Got that?’

Fitz raises his hand. ‘Uh, I was supposed to be on lunch duty, but if you want me to help Mac…’

'Nah, man, you're good,' Trip butts in. 'A plate of PB&J for me, thanks.'

Bobbi pinches the bridge of her nose as Fitz produces a notepad and pencil and everybody hurriedly files their sandwich orders. ‘Fine! Mac, you’ve got the garage cleanup. Fitz, I want a grilled cheese.’

Fitz nods and walks out, pencil tucked behind his ear. ‘Back in thirty.’

'Trip and Jemma, that old glass needs to come out of the meeting room wall. There's probably an extra groundsheet you guys can use, but there's always the back-vac for any smaller pieces you can't pick up safely. Jemma, make sure Trip wears gloves - I saw him lifting those boxes today, he's got a habit of forgetting about his own health when helping others.'

Jemma swats Trip’s shoulder and gives him a frustrated look, and he cowers in mock terror. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll do whatever you want!’

Bobbi looks around at everyone. ‘What are you waiting for, then? Get to it, folks!’

~

Skye empties her pistol into the target in front of her, pushes her earmuffs off her ears and buzzes the target forward.  _Pretty_   _good._ All six shots were close to the centre.

She’s about to reload and give another paper target hell when her stomach growls loudly. _Yeah! Saved by the bell!_

She puts up fresh targets up, packs everything away, and kills the lights in the little range, before wandering off in the direction of the kitchen.

As she walks through the corridors, she realises they’re silent and deserted.  _Where the hell is everyone?_ She makes a detour and pops into the labs, but Fitz, Mac and Simmons are nowhere to be seen.

'I'm pretty sure I've had nightmares that go like this,' she says to herself, trying to fill the silence.

To her relief, Skye finds Fitz in the kitchen, apparently making enough sandwiches to feed a small army. Or maybe just himself - sometimes it was hard to tell.

She hops onto one of the bar stools with a smile. ‘Hey, Fitz. Gathering sandwiches for the long winter ahead?’

'I wish I was. S'always good to get a head start on that kind of thing.' Brow furrowed with concentration, Fitz puts the top on a double cheese sandwich and carefully places it in the griller. 'Instead, I lost a bet. Now I'm stuck making lunch for bloody savages who wouldn't know a proper sandwich if it bit them on the nose.' He huffs in annoyance. 'Grilled cheese. What a travesty.'

'Wait, did you bet against  _Mac?’_  Skye internally debates the medicinal value of a dope-slap. ‘I _told_  you not to! He only bets if he knows he’s gonna win!’

'Eh, it's really not that bad. I guess I managed to get out of, um, cleaning out the garage on the Bus.' Fitz looks up with something resembling his old smug grin. 'Most of that mess was mine, actually.'

'Impressive.' 

'Yep.'

As Fitz takes the compliment to heart, she surreptitiously takes the opportunity to spirit away a PB&J sandwich, only to be rapped sharply on the knuckles for her trouble.

'Uh-uh-uh, that's Trip's lunch. You keep your paws to yourself - there's nothing worse than a sandwich thief, I say.'

'Aw, c'mon, man! I've been practicing in the firing range all day!' Skye's tummy complains right on cue, and she looks up at him in vindication.  _God, I hope that’s my 0-8-4 thing - a well-timed stomach. ‘_ See _,_ my stomach thinks it’s not getting any food because someone’s cut my throat.’

'Your throat's actually perfectly fine, and we've all been hard at work fixing up the inside of the Bus a bit. So there.'

'Number 1: ha ha ha, it's actually called hyperbole, Meccano-boy, and Number 2: nobody told me zip. I had no idea you were all fixing the Bus, otherwise I would've ditched shooting practice!' She reaches across and lightly punches his shoulder.

'Uh, people really have to stop doing that,' Fitz mumbles, rubbing his arm.

Suddenly, there’s a sound in the corridor, and they look up to see Hunter walk in.

'Bloody hell, where have you two been? I've been looking for any sign of life in this base for nearly-' he checks his watch, '-say, ten minutes.'

Fitz snorts, and Skye applauds sarcastically.

Hunter’s face falls. ‘Oi, none of that, I was getting really worried though. I was even going to check Coulson’s office, that’s how worried I wa-‘

Skye cuts him off. ‘Translation: you smelt the grilled cheese and came to see if you could bum a sandwich.’

Hunter looks outraged for a second until he realises Fitz isn’t buying it either. ‘Fair enough,’ he says, shrugging.

'That won't fly here,' Skye says. 'If you want a sandwich, you better get in line, 'cause I was here first.' She smiles winningly at Fitz. 'Isn't that right?'

'No, Skye, I'm  _not_  making you a sandwich!’

'Aww c'mon Fitz! I'm sooooo hungry…'

'Technically, that's ‘ _We’re_  sooooo hungry’,’ Hunter says.

Fitz glares at them. ‘Stop faffing about and help me, then. No such thing as a free bloody lunch.’

~

Soon, the three of them have made enough plates of sandwiches to fill a convenient trolley. Hunter, having been bribed with a significant number of sandwiches, is pushing it.

 Mac spots them first from the Bus’ garage. He quickly tosses the wrench he’s holding into the nearest toolbox. ‘Lunch’s here!’

Trip appears from the upper level and barrels down the staircase, tearing off his safety gloves. ‘About damn time!’

Bobbi and Jemma walk out at a more sedate pace. Skye waves and they wave back.

They decide to sit on the hangar floor and eat lunch, partly because Jemma’s halfway through cleaning up the Bus’ canteen and doesn’t want to have to start over, but mostly because the boys (and Skye) have intercepted the trolley before it even reached the Bus’ cargo ramp and are eating straight off it.

Jemma quickly grabs a plate off the trolley before it gets demolished. ‘Save some for May, please, she’s still in there fitting glass -  _hey!_ ' She fends off Hunter trying to swipe a sandwich from the plate she's holding.

Hunter mumbles defensively around a mouthful of grilled cheese, spraying Jemma, and Bobbi next to her, with breadcrumbs. He realises what he’s done and attempts to apologise, but only manages to make the problem worse.

'Ugh, your table manners are still as disgusting as they used to be,' Bobbi says, grimacing and brushing herself down.

To his credit, Hunter swallows before replying. ‘What table?’

Bobbi sighs in frustration. ‘Just because there’s no table doesn’t mean you shower everyone with whatever the hell you’re chewing on! Or talk with your mouth full!’

'I said sorry, all right?'

'Why would that even count when you spray us with even more food while you say it? God, Lance, it's like you're five!'

'Least  _I_  didn’t marry a five year old,’ he mutters.

Bobbi does a massive double take before grabbing him by the shirt. ‘If I had known what the hell I was getting into-‘

Jemma suddenly decides to bring May her lunch in person as Bobbi and Hunter bicker loudly, the latter still pinned by his collar.

Mac gets up and convinces the both of them it’s not worth it, and they eat their lunch sitting as far away from each other as possible. Hunter pointedly eats with even less grace than before, and everyone subtly gives him a wide berth.

'So, how come no one told me we were fixing up the Bus? I'd have loved to join.' Skye asks Trip.

Trip takes a bite of his PB&J sandwich. ‘It was supposed to be a surprise for everyone. But then Bobbi caught Jemma, and Fitz ‘n’ Mac caught me, and then May caught Bobbi, and now it’s more of a team thing than a surprise. At least we’re getting more done.’

'What can I do to help?'

'You can help me tidy up the cabins, if you want.'

'Sure.'

'Uh, what about me?' Fitz asks. 

May and Jemma walk up to them. ‘Bus’ windows need washing,’ May says. ‘Where’s the beer?’

'Oh bloody hell, I knew I was forgetting something.' He throws a fragment of sandwich at Hunter. 'Why didn't  _you_  bring any? Er, come to think of it, this is the longest I’ve seen you go without a bottle in your hand, you alright?’

Hunter glumly picks at the hangar floor. ‘I think I was actually more hungry than thirsty. Not any more, though.’

May pulls out her phone and taps away for a minute before stowing it back in her pocket. ‘Shouldn’t be long.’

Exactly two minutes later, Coulson and Koenig arrive with a carton of beers each.

Hunter slaps Koenig on the back as he relieves the little man of two beers. ‘Absolute lifesavers, you are.’

Coulson quickly snatches them back off him. ‘Not so fast. You get beer if we get sandwiches. Fair trade?’

In no time at all, Coulson and Koenig are set up with as many sandwiches as they’d like. Trip watches Koenig eating like a hawk.

'Can robots eat?' he asks Fitz quietly.

Before Fitz can respond, Koenig looks up. ‘Robots are getting more and more advanced all the time. There’s probably some out there that can.’ He smiles at Trip and takes another bite of his sandwich.

Trip looks like  _he’s_  about to short-circuit. ‘Uh, thanks for the info.’

'Welcome. Agent Morse, I see you found the white paint you were looking for.'

Bobbi stands up and dusts her hands off. ‘Yes, I did, thanks.’

Coulson glances worriedly at her paint-streaked clothes. ‘What’s happening to my plane?’

Jemma appears out of nowhere. ‘Surprise! We’re doing up the Bus!’ She laughs delightedly, ecstatic at having been able to surprise at least one person. Coulson doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d kinda figured that out already.

'Jemma invented something to fill in the bulletholes in the Bus' walls, and I've painted over them. Looks like new.' Bobbi smiles proudly at Jemma.

Jemma blushes a little. ‘Fitz deserves at least half the credit.’

Fitz looks down shyly, and Mac slaps his back proudly.

'He fixed the hold's dust collection system too,' Trip adds, grinning widely at Fitz, and gets smiles from him and Jemma in return.

Coulson looks him up and down. ‘Well done, Fitz. Keep up the good work - we’re gonna need those tech skills in the field soon.’

Fitz goes tomato red. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he stammers.

The Director nods at Fitz, then stands up, shrugs off his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeves. ‘Right. What’s left to be done?’

'You can help me with the windows.' May is already halfway up the Bus' ramp.

'Oh, are we replacing the glass in the debrief room?'

She shoots him an amused glance. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten Sydney already.’

Coulson sighs. ‘How could I?’ he says, running a hand across his scalp. ‘My hair never grew back the same after that mission.’

May looks at him weirdly, and Coulson suddenly realises that just about everybody’s stopped what they’re doing to stare at him.

He clears his throat. ‘Uh, long story. Anyway, I thought we had a plane to fix?’

~

The Bus is a hive of activity.

Mac slaps the last toolbox shut and looks appreciatively round the clean garage. He goes up to see how Fitz’s doing with the windows, and is hit with the roar of a commercial vacuum cleaner as he enters the main quarters.

Koenig hums to himself as he vacuums the living area thoroughly, not that anyone else can hear him. The back-vac is a little big on him, and the straps slip off occasionally.

Bobbi has to duck to avoid getting hit by the back-vac as Koenig swings around in time to his little tune, kneeling as she is, over one of the leather seats scattered around the Bus’ living quarters. Jemma’s pointed out a few that need patching.

Jemma herself is sorting out the last of the contents of the kitchen cupboards. Brilliant scientists and engineers  _do_  sometimes zone out when they’re too absorbed in a project, and _occasionally_ leave screwdrivers and pencils in the cutlery drawer, or safety glasses in the fridge.

Fitz had been a little under halfway through wiping down the little round windows on one side of the Bus when he’d been recruited by May to recalibrate the flight controls. Coulson and Mac are left to finish the job, and Hunter mutters mutinously under his breath, annoyed that he’s been left to do the windows on the other side by himself.

May was the one who did the recruiting, she and Coulson having made short work of setting the debrief room’s windows. She keeps an eye on Fitz in the cockpit, mumbling to himself under his breath as he unscrews a panel and squints at the mess of cables and circuit boards within.

Skye and Trip take three cabins each and compete to see who’ll finish tidying first. That is, until Skye idly checks under Ward’s old bunk and strikes gold. Well, a miniaturised pistol with silencer, anyway.

‘I’m telling you, I found it, therefore it’s mine.’ Skye announces, itching to hit the range with her new toy. ‘That’s how finders keepers works.’

Trip crosses his arms and manages to keep a straight face. ‘And I’m telling you that you’re barely Level 1 and my seniority gives me precedence over you.’

She scoffs at him ‘Seniority, my left boob – this is S.H.I.E.L.D. 2.0! We all handed in our badges, remember? We’re all the same now. In fact, I’ve been under Coulson for longer than you, and now he’s the freaking Director, so I should be higher up. So there.’

Trip shakes his head in wonder at this new bullshit.

Skye wads up an odd sock and throws it at him, but he ducks out of the way in time.  ‘And I totally  _was_  Level 1, don’t give me that ‘barely’ crap!’

Jemma chooses the wrong second to pop her head around the door to ask if they want tea or coffee now that she’s done cleaning the canteen, and gets hit by an airborne sock for her trouble. ‘ _What is going on in here?’_

Skye claps a hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry, Simmons. I was aiming for Trip.’

Trip sees an opportunity. ‘ I don’t know,’ he says with mock regret. ‘Aim that bad might be a good enough reason to break finders keepers…’

Skye rolls her eyes. ‘That’s not gonna work-‘

Trip grins mischievously. ‘Oh, really? I heard from a detainee that you didn’t know the difference between the mag release and the safety. Even  _Level Zeros_  know that.’

‘Wait, you met Akela?’ Skye’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline. ‘You know about that?’

(Jemma looks a little like she’s watching a tennis match.)

‘The privilege of  _seniority_ ,’ he says smugly.

Skye suddenly wishes she’d found the other sock as well. ‘Yeah, well, that was frickin’ ages ago! Anyway, I can totally do guns now.‘ She quickly tucks the gun into the waistband of her pants and makes for the door.

But Trip has noted the change in body language before she took her chance and moves to block her exit.

As he advances on her, and as Skye feels the edge of the bunk on the back of her knees, she realizes he’s got just about every advantage he could possibly have on her – height, strength, position – and decides to get the hell out of dodge, sliding under Trip’s legs and running past Jemma for the Playground with all her strength.

Trip turns to Jemma as Skye’s cackling fades into the distance, and suddenly chuckles. ‘She’s a quick one, make a fine commander one day.’

Coulson and Mac walk up, having just finished the last window. Hunter’s frustration is palpable from where Trip and Jemma are standing.

‘I nearly got run over by Skye going like a bat out of hell.’ Coulson looks back over his shoulder. ‘Actually, now that I come to think about it, she sounded like one too. What the hell’s going on?’

Trip sobers up. ‘She found a silenced gun under that traitor’s old bunk. Nice one too. Pocket-sized.’

Coulson’s face darkens. ‘She’s welcome to it. That son of a bitch won’t be using it again.’

‘Amen to that,’ Trip says.

Jemma smiles grimly. ‘Tea or coffee?’ she asks.

~

Some time later, Skye returns to the Bus, a spring in her step. She stops when she sees the entire crew sat on the edge of the cargo ramp with a mug each, having finished the massive clean-up.

‘Hey, where’s my drink? And why aren’t you guys around the debrief table?’

Coulson rolls his eyes. ‘Because we might spill coffee on the carpet.’ He looks exasperatedly over at Koenig, who gives a sanctimonious little nod.

‘You’re back, slacker,’ Trip calls out cheekily. ‘I had to finish cleaning the rest of that bunk you ditched. And where’s my pistol?’

Skye gives him a look. ‘I’m not bringing that back here for you to steal it off me! Anyway, I finished  _four_ bunks before that one - I was helping you with your side,  _slacker_.’

Trip laughs and pats the space beside him. ‘Yeah, yeah. I made you a coffee too. You’re welcome.’

Jemma looks up. ‘Excuse you, Trip. May and  _I_ made everyone’s favourite beverages while all of you toured the new and improved Bus.’

Hunter raises his mug. ‘Bloody well done too. Haven’t had tea like this in years.’

Shouts of agreement from everyone. Jemma buries her face in her cup in embarrassment, and May smiles as she sips her green tea.

Coulson raises his mug too, nodding at them, before looking back at the neat garage. ‘We all did a good job today.’

‘It’s sort of like before,’ Fitz says quietly. Mac claps him on the shoulder, and he smiles.

 _It doesn’t_  have _to be like before,_  Jemma finds herself thinking. She glances over at Fitz and opens her mouth to say it, but something else comes out. ‘It’s a, um, very nice garage. When it’s clean, mind.’

Mac grins at her. ‘Thanks.’

Trip nudges Jemma. ‘Hey, you started all of this,’ he says. ‘Sorry it didn’t end up a surprise, but I think we did pretty well.’ He holds up his hand and Jemma hi-fives him with a grin.

Bobbi looks over, and smiles proudly. ‘Yeah, I still can’t believe you totally  _invented_ something to fill those bulletholes…’

‘Thank you, but it wasn’t just me!’ Jemma points over at Fitz.

Fitz looks up at Bobbi. ‘Yeah, she, um, developed the formula, and, er, I put the delivery, um-‘

'Mechanism,' Jemma adds.

'Yes, I put the delivery mechanism together,' he finishes.

‘ _We_  invented it back when we were in the Academy, for a special formula I synthesised.’ Jemma explains. ‘The original version of my formula mimicked the qualities of spider silk, and we used it to festoon Academy corridors and halls with realistic spiderwebs around Halloween.’

 ’Um, I had a really cool name for it too…’ Fitz takes a swig of tea and promptly chokes. Mac thumps him on the back a few times before he can speak.

‘ _The_   _Webslinger_!’ he splutters. ‘That’s what we called that thing!’

Jemma beams at him.

Coulson is suddenly wearing a very thoughtful expression. ‘Now, why do I feel like I’ve heard that before…


End file.
